An Hour in Glitter Beats one in Blood
by Starr-Sensei
Summary: Crowley took a step back, studying the planes and angles of the face before him. He gazed into the clear blue eyes, searching for some slight resistance, a little resentment; something. "Alright then, Kitten. Seal it with a kiss."
1. Chapter 1

**Three Days Earlier**

* * *

"Oh Hell no, Sam. I am not doing that. No. Just." Dean turned, grimacing. "No."

Sam smirked, "It's just a gay bar, Dean. It's a hell of a lot easier to deal with than the Apocalypse. Besides, its the only connection we have to our victims!"

"Yeah, but why do I have to go?" Dean whined.

"Because, if I have to, you have to. And besides, we're less likely to get hit on if we walk in together." Clapping him on the back, Sam added, "Besides, it's just for a case. An hour in glitter beats one in blood."

"Alright, fine. But so help me God, Sam. One flaming fairy hits on me, and I am leaving, vampires, or no vampires."

**At the bar**

* * *

"Scotch, please, and for the love of God, make it a double," Dean pleaded, wincing, as the glitter-freak next to him elevator-eyed him for the third time. "Look, Sam, it's not like I'm homophobic, I'm completely okay with the rainbow and all it's children, but I am just not okay with being hit on constantly."

"Yeah, well, now you know how the women in your life feel." Sam quirked, signaling the bartender for a refill.

"Low blow, Sam. Low blow." he replied, downing his drink. Man, this was exactly the sort of nightmare the damn Trickster would cook up. He was covered in glitter, and his pants were _leather,_ for God's sake. **Leather**. He stole a glance over at Sam and Cas. Sam was wearing his normal flannel and jeans, maybe just a little unbuttoned and without an undershirt. _I guess that's what some of the fruitier guys like_, Dean thought. Cas, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He was dressed, well, like a damn male stripper; tight, sheer looking pants, boots, a tight,muscle-restraining-midriff-showing black v-neck, and of course, _that damn trench coat_. Dean had to admit, if he were ever to bat for the other team, Cas would definitely peak his interest. Dean nearly jumped at the starkness of that thought. Not daring to steal another glance at the angel, he turned back to the bar.

"So what are we thinking on this? There's no sign of a nest around here, we've been searching for almost a week and a half. Loner, or a Bonnie and Clyde thing, maybe?" Dean surmised.

"No, I don't even think it's that. When we went to the last victims house, there was sulfur. But the second was classic vampire. And the first was definitely werewolf." Sam pointed out.

"You're not thinking that they might be gang-banging together are you? Because that just doesn't happen. Ever." Dean looked incredulous.

Sam just smiled at Dean, turning back around to examine the crowd.


	2. Chapter 2

Two Days Earlier

"Cas! CAS! Dammit, Cas, we could really use a little of that Angel mojo right about now!" Dean grunted out, as he beheaded yet another bloodsucker. "Dammit, Sammy, how many of these things are there?!" he yelled.

"I don't know Dean, but they're all different!" Sam replied.

"What?!" Dean shouted, rounding a corner.

"I mean they're all different species. I thought they were supposed to be natural enemies, all that jazz. Fighting for territory, you know. It just doesn't make sense." Sam slammed the door, and moved to push the table against it. "Uh, a little help here, Dean. Not at a hundred percent, you know."

Dean moved against the other side of the table, wedging it underneath the handle. Glancing over at Sam's limp arm he grimaced. "How bad is it, Sammy?"

"It could be worse."

"Dammit. Where is Cas' sorry ass when I need him?!" Dean ranted, walking around the room.

"I am right here, Dean." Castiel replied.

"Cas!" Sam exclaimed, walking towards him.

Castiel placed his hand on Sam's arm, mending the fracture and torn flesh with his Grace. Sam looked at the Angel, "Thank you, Cas. I appreciate it."

"Well, that's not why we called for you, Cas. There is a shit ton of freaks out there, and they're all playing nice, despite being from different neighbourhoods. Do you have any idea why that is?" Dean grilled, eager for answers on the blood-ridden nightmare that used to be the warehouse.

"No, Dean. I am not one of them, nor can I simply read their minds." Cas intoned.

"Woah, calm down the sass there, Angel." Dean held up his hands.

Castiel tilted his head at Dean, not understanding. Dean waved him off, focusing on the noises coming from the other side of the door.

"I think we're in way over our heads." Sam peered out the window.

"Well, Sammy, what do you think we should do about it?" Dean quipped, reloading his shotgun.

"I think I know what Sam intends to do," Castiel appeared behind the brothers, tilting his head.

"Wait. Am I missing the link here?" Dean looked between the two of them.

"I think Sam wants me to create a diversion while you both escape to the Impala. Until we know the reason they are gathered, there's nothing we can do to prevent the onslaught." the angel replied.

"He's right Dean. I know you love the hunt, but, there's not a lot we can do here, other than get even more tired, and pile up bodies." Sam looked over at his brother.

"Yeah, I guess you're right Sammy. Let's get ready. Cas, just...meet us back at the room, okay?" Dean turned to face his guardian Angel, but he was already gone.

At the hotel

Dean was pacing back and forth. He was in desperate need of a shower, some scotch, and sleep; but he couldn't bring himself to move out from in front of the door until Cas showed his face.

_What could have happened to him? I knew I shouldn't have left him there! I should have stayed, I should have helped him. We were all drained, and hurting. What if he doesn't have enough juice to zap himself back?_ Dean's thoughts were rushing around at ninety miles an hour, and Sam had had enough.

"I swear to **God** Dean, if you don't get in there, and take a shower, and wash that blood and guts off you, I will drag you in there, strip you down and do it myself." Sam threatened, lying face down on one of the twin beds in the small room. He had been watching Dean torture himself over Cas for the past two hours, and frankly, he was done with it. _I swear, you'd think they were a couple, the way they obsess over each other, even a mile apart_. Sam thought.

"I don't want to be in the middle of scrubbing when he comes back, Sammy. I need to know he's okay. We asked him to do this, we need to be sure." Dean snapped, picking back up on his pacing.

"We need to be sure, or you need to be sure?" Sam replied snarkily, tired of his brother's excuses.

"What the hell does that mean, Samantha?" the elder man retorted, stopping in his tracks.

"Look, Dean, just go, Cas isn't going to want to see you like that anyway. _I_ don't even want to look at you." Rolling his eyes, Dean made his way to the tiny bathroom.

"Whatever. I don't even care anymore. You can deal with the feathery bitch."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stepped out of the dingy tub, wrapping a towel around his waist. Feeling, rather than seeing the 'feathery bitch' behind him, Dean froze; the only sound in the room coming from his quickened breathing and stuttering heart. Turning to face his angel, Dean grimaced at the sight.

"Cas! You're covered in blood!"

"I know that, Dean. That's why I've come to ask for your help." Cas seemed calm and collected, but Dean knew that he was shaken up and tapped out.

"Of course, man, what do you need?"

"My Grace has been nearly exhausted. There were dozens of vampires, but then fifty demons showed up as well. It took nearly all I had to finish them and transport myself here. I need to get these... fluids.. off of me so I can assess my own wounds." Dean stared at the angel, confused.

"What exactly do you need me to do, Cas?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"I don't... I don't know how to... clean myself, Dean." Cas looked uncomfortable, clearly picking up on Dean's body language, realizing that this wasn't something that friends ask of each other.

"You've.. never taken a shower?" Dean asked, incredulous. Realizing exactly what this would mean, Dean blushed scarlet, hiding his face.

"I've never needed to, Dean. Any time I, or my clothing would get dirty, I could 'zap', as you say, the dirt away."

"So, you're saying you're out of juice?" Dean's eyes widened. This was just not something that was normal. Cas was an Angel of the Lord! Not to mention, his vessel is one hundred percent male. Even though he still had mixed feelings about helping him out, Dean reasoned with himself. _It's just a shower. People do this for friends all the time when they've been hurt. It's not like Cas will try anything. He's so oblivious it almost hurts_. Convinced, Dean looked at his sagging friend.

"Alright. Why don't you take a seat here," he pointed Cas to the toilet, "and I will go put some pants on, and then we can get you cleaned up. Okay?"

"Of course, Dean." Cas replied, sighing wearily.

Dean stuck his head out of the bathroom, not at all surprised to see Sam passed out on his bed. Dean smiled softly, remembering many other nights in hotels, younger versions of themselves watching T.V. or reading books together. Coming out of his reverie, he padded over to the dilapidated dresser. Skipping over boxers, he pulled on a worn pair of jeans, dropping his towel on the floor. Once he was safely in the bathroom with the door firmly closed and latched, he allowed himself to fully analyze Cas. He looked sad and defeated, leaning up against the sink for support. He was coated in blood and reeked of sulfur.

Kneeling in front of the toilet, Dean gently shook the angel, "Castiel. I need you to wake up, at least for a little bit. Come on buddy. That's it." Cas peered up at Dean, sitting up slowly.

"Can you stand up for me?" Dean asked softly, almost afraid to hurt the angel even more. Nodding, Cas rose to his feet, still managing to be a commanding and elegant being while covered in the scum of the underworld. Dean hesitantly lifted his arms, gripping the sides of Cas' trench coat in shaky hands. Steeling himself with a breath, and glancing up at Cas for permission, he slowly started to drag the fabric across the strong shoulders, and down his lean back. Letting it drop to the floor, Dean once again glanced up, green emeralds meeting blue sky. Cas simply stared back at Dean intently, as if trying to memorize his every movement. His eyes still captured in the angel's blue depths, Dean's fingers found their way to the knot in his tie, slowing loosening it. Dean could feel Cas come closer to him with every pull, until finally, it slipped from around the man's neck, sliding down with the trench coat. Dean knew, could feel, the gore and dirt underneath his fingers, but for some reason, he couldn't find him in it to care. His fingers trailed down Castiel's neck, to the collar of his dress shirt. He turned it up, before slowly moving from button to button, his usually shaky fingers precise and calm; complete opposite to his breathing and thoughts. Pushing through the last button, Dean stilled his hands. He broke the intense gaze to trail his eyes down the angel's chest, half of him admiring the defined muscles, the other half analyzing for injury. Peeling the shirt away slowly, he heard Cas whimper in pain.

"Cas?" Dean froze, snapping his head up to watch his angel grimace in pain.

"Cas, baby, where is it hurting?"

"Sh-shoulders. They..They went for my wings, Dean."

The last word was almost a sob, and Dean knew that he was breaking.

"Sit back down baby. Let me help you."

Cas simply nodded, lowering himself to the edge of the tub. Dean stepped in behind him, kneeling to get a better look. "Cas...brace yourself." He simply nodded, silently giving Dean permission. Letting out a breath, he started to pull the fabric over Cas' shoulders and down his arms. Throwing the bloodied shirt onto the floor, Dean suppressed a sob at what he saw. The pale flesh was marred and bloodied, with deep gashes running through each shoulder blade.

"Oh." was all he breathed.

"How bad is it, Dean?" Castiel asked, worry clouding his usually monotone voice.

"Cas," he rasped, "Did they get to your wings?" Dean felt as if he hadn't had a drink of water in months.

"No, Dean. But now.. now I can't let them out."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean felt as if his heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. Moment after moment passed, and it was all Dean could do to breathe and not collapse into the darkness he so desperately wanted to be in. He nearly broke as his angel shuddered, almost missing the quiet plea.

"Dean, please... I, I need you to say something."

He just blinked at the dark hair in front of him, mouth opening, with no sound.

"Castiel," he whispered. "Oh, Castiel."

He leaned forward a bit, pressing his forehead against the man's back, gently, as not to move his wounds.

"I didn't know you could let them out."

Sagging in relief, Castiel closed his eyes, thanking his absent God for his mortal again and again.

"It's how I can fly, and how I can slay a room of monsters at a time. I simply let my Grace, my Wings, shine through my vessel." Dean sunk, deeper and deeper into the black hole forming in his chest with every word.

"And now.." Dean trailed off, eyes tearing at the unspoken words.

"And now...I can't do any of that." he replied, tilting his head back touch Dean.

"Can..will you heal, eventually?" the reply came a few minutes later, when the tears threatening to fall had subsided.

"I will heal in time, Dean. If you would help me. Just one last time."

Hearing this, the Righteous Man broke once more, tearing in two, listening to his angel plead for his help, as if he were something of value, someone an Angel of the Lord relied on, and needed. There was nothing more in that moment that Dean wanted, nothing was more important, than making his Castiel whole again. Pressing deeper into the angel's back, Dean finally let himself go, hot tears falling onto the porcelain skin in front of him, and Castiel wept, if not externally, then internally; marveling at how a meek Angel of Thursday could ever be worthy enough to deserve this man's tears and care, knowing without fail, that there was nothing this man wouldn't do for him, nothing he wouldn't sacrifice to save his Wings, to make him complete.

Castiel felt every teardrop gliding down his back, the hot salty fluid stinging his wounds, and even though there was slight pain, he couldn't have been more at ease, and more happy. Cas felt more than knew, that Dean would need a few minutes, so he sat there, allowing Dean as much time as he needed to let his feelings out, before he bottled them back inside. Finally, Dean maneuvered his head away from the warmth of the angel, and placed his hands on Cas' upper arms.

"I would be honoured to help you, Castiel." he whispered.

"Dean, I..." Cas begain, struggling for words.

Reaching up, the man placed a palm to the angel's cheek.

"It's okay. I love you too."

* * *

{A/N: Thanks for reading, loves.}


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